50 bucks per hour
by victoriafrankenstein
Summary: My neighbor is a boy with piercing blue eyes and blonde hair. It turns out my neighbor is also a prostitute. Akuroku. Rated M for obvious reasons.
1. Chapter 1

The doorbell rang again. The fucking doorbell that kept me awake every single night. I opened my eyes to see nothing but darkness around my eyes, feeling around me with the tips of my fingers, I located my fairly new iPhone 4s and checked the time.

2:39.

Why in the holy hell did the doorbell ring at such an ungodly hour? Why did it ring at such an ungodly hour, every single fucking night in the first place?

I should probably explain what am I even talking about. I have a neighbor and his doorbell rang every night, at some point of the night sooner or later. Having developed a slight case of insomnia in my youth, the sound of the freaking doorbell kept me awake for the next two hours. Then, when I was slowly drifting to sleep-land, the doorbell sometimes rang again. I had slept so little during these few week, I was positive I was going to crash my car and myself in the process on my way to my stupid work-place. This neighbor was literally killing me.

I had never seen him, but I was highly suspecting that he deals drugs. Think about it. What else could it be, besides drugs or prostitution? Possibly both. I am guessing drugs, because from what I had gathered from the muffled voices I sometimes heard, he is possibly a guy. Being raised via my mom watching Pretty woman, I have also been raised to think that only girls prostitute, but I digress. What bothered me though, is why would he live in such a cheap place if he was dealing drugs? Wouldn't a place like this be the first place the cops would come looking?

I contemplated the different ways I could potentially get him to fucking stop taking visitors every... single.. night... Albeit the idea of dumping the innards of a cats litterbox through his letter-drop highly amused me, I suspected if it would get the message across. A note wouldn't be mean enough to satisfy my ever-lasting anger for him making me stay up for weeks. Then again, if I managed to be witty enough with the note, there is a possibility that he would stop AND post my note on tumblr, because he would think I will get him notes. On the other hand, that would satisfy his ego, which would not be satisfactory to me - therefore I returned to my idea of the litterbox.

Upon thinking this, I was painfully aware of the sounds in the next apartment. Usually their muffled, but now it was so loud I could make up the words, if I wasn't so tired. Someone is shouting. I would have possibly been worried about this, but I was so fed up with the continuous rude awakenings in the night, I decided not to bother myself with this.

That was until I heard a loud crash and the door slamming shut. Even though my red hair and facial tattoos might give you an impression that I'm cold at heart, I actually worry a lot for others. Even people I don't know. I got up and threw a pair of collegepants on myself - they were grey and they were disgusting in all their filth that I had gathered from never bothering to wash them. I walked up to my door and glanced at the mirror to see how horrid my eyebags looked. If possible, they were potentially more horrifying than I was expecting, but because I was pissed at hell at this neighbor, I didn't mind scaring his sorry ass with my eyebags. Even though I am smoking hot in a sufficient level on a good day, these eyebags paired with aforementioned red hair, facial tattoos and my considerably slender body, frankly, made me look like a junkie. Maybe he'd sell me drugs.

I opened my front-door and walked out in the hallway and blundered about for a few seconds trying to find the light switch. The floors were fucking cold, by the way. Soon afterwards my observation of the cold floors I realize that the light switch had grown a pair of legs and ran out, because I couldn't feel the switch anywhere. After wondering if this was really such a great idea, I decided that even if ignorance is bliss, further wreckage of my sleep-rhythm would ultimately result in my early death and took the necessary steps to my neighbors door in the pitch-black.

Ringing the damned doorbell and muttering to myself that the litter-box idea was actually a pretty good idea and therefore ignoring the steps heard, I had a miniature heart-attack when the door opened.

What I saw was a boy ( I suspected at least ), that, being pretty much of a short-stack and with his blue eyes, blonde hair and slightly feminine looks managed to give off a "Thai ladyboy at your service"-aura. He gave me a puzzled who-the-fuck-are-you-look, before flashing me a shy smile - which was kind of baffling to me, I mean I was ringing his doorbell in the middle of the night, looking like the grim reaper - and stepping aside to let me in.

"Hi. Come on in", he said with a weird purr. Quickly going back to my idea of prostitution, instead of drugs, I let out an "uhh, ok" and stepped into what must have been the insides of a room decor-magazine. Compared to my apartment, this one looked like a five-star hotels most expensive suite. I mean come on he had a white leather-sofa. Freaking white leather.

I heard him close the door behind me and he went to sit on his white leather-sofa.

"Before we start, I have a few rules. First, absolutely no fisting. Second, that first rule has no expections. Absolutely. No. Fisting. Third, that is all the rules. Also, it's fifty bucks per hour, from now... 150 for the entire night. So, do you have any wishes?" Wow, I was definitely leaning towards prostitution. What the hell was fisting anyway? And why didn't he ask me if I was a cop? This kid had no situational awareness. Or awareness of who the hell I was and why I was here anyway. I was confused as hell.

"Umm, I think you're mista-" I managed to let out, before he cut me off.

"Do you have any wishes?" He repeated, clearly impatient.

"I wish you would keep it down. I'm from next door and the constant doorbell ringing in the middle of the night is getting on my last nerve and also I heard some loud noises and a crash so I was wondering if you were awake and I'm really confused right now first off what the hell is fisting and besides what the hell are you charging for do I need to call the cops and seriously you should keep it the fuck down I mean prostituting is fine but at least do it by day so I can sleep" I was rambling on as fast as possible so he couldn't cut me off anymore "Please".

He looked pretty dumb-founded at my monologue and was silent for a moment. He hesitantly got up from the sofa and looked around himself for a bit. I took a good look at him, while he was fidgeting. Apart from his obvious ladyboy-ness, he was actually a looker. Definitely prostitution. His hair seemed to have a world of his own - definitely prostitution, hair like that had no choice to be created apart from having sex - and his eyes were the bluest I had ever seen. He seemed to have a good physique too, but because of the morning-robe he was wearing I really couldn't tell for sure. While my examination took place, he seemed to have gathered the information I had provided him during my monologue and now he was the one to look confused.

"Are you a cop?" There it was. Kid really should have asked this question the first thing he did.

"..no? I'm your neighbor. Axel Williams", what kind of a time was this for introductions? I mentally slapped myself for ever deciding on coming here instead of using the litter-box.

"...Oh. Uhh.. Roxas Strife. That's my name, I mean. Umm... I guess you're confused by that speech of rules and money and...", he clearly didn't know what to say. Couldn't really blame him, what was he supposed to say?

"Hi. My name is Roxas Strife. Sorry about the noise, but I openly prostitute and how should I know when clients arrive if they don't ring the doorbell? A man has got to make a living, you know. But I will consider your proposal of taking clients in - no pun intended - during the day. Thank you for your time, I will not be taking clients for the rest of the night, so you can rest. I apologise for the inconvenience."

"Well, yeah. Actually, I'm more confused by what the hell is fisting", I told him and rocked on my heels to calm down.

He looked a bit amused now.

"I basically just told you what my prices are and you're the most concerned about your lack of knowledge for the word "fisting"? That's a first", he chuckled a bit, before continuing "I don't think there's anyway I could come up with a believable lie, so I'm just going to tell you. I'm a hooker, basically, but you seem to have guessed. Fisting means taking the whole fist in."

Okay, so that was pretty close to my proposition on his explanation. I was seriously regretting not taking up the litter-box idea by now. I was not prepared for fisting to be.. well, that.

"Uhhh... I really don't know what to say to that. Okay, cool? I kind of want to get away from this situation desperately. I'm getting progressively more uncomfortable by the second. I just came to ask if you would possibly, um, not take guests by night? I work mornings so... You get the gist", I have a habit of spouting when nervous, by the way.

He laughed at my obvious uncomfortable fidgeting.

"Yeah, I get you. Sorry. Prostituting isn't my first choice on life, really. But I need to take the clients in, or I'm in some deep shit. I'm really sorry about it, honest", he was a bit too laid-back on this subject.

"Umm.. If it's not your choice, then... Why are you doing it?" I hit myself hard, because my idiotic curiousity took over and asked that. I was supposed to be sound asleep in my bed, not in my neighbors apartment having this highly weird conversation about getting into deep shit and prostitution.

"I just.. ran into some trouble and I'm making up for it", clearly I went too far with that question. He was dodging that, but he told me he was a prostitute with a straight face. This kid was something else.

And I was itching to get to know what that something else was and on the other hand I was dying to just get back to my bed and drift to sleep and forget that this conversation ever happened. While knowing full well, that this was the point where one should just back out the door and call the police, there was a part in me that was telling me not to. The same fucking useless part that got me into this situation in the first place. I can't believe that in the time-span of less than two hours I had gone from just being generally peeved at my neighbor to where I was holding the most oppressing conversation I had been in all my years. This just fucking didn't happen. The situation made me question my sanity. Maybe I'm dying and God decided to throw me a prank such as this, so I would die with so many question marks just gliding through the holy heavens, that I would soon appear in? Or perhaps I just fell to the depths of a psychosis, creating myself this parallel universe where my neighbor is a prostitute and I tip-toe to his apartment at around 3AM?

At that moment, I decided to find out what the fuck was going on.


	2. Chapter 2

Authors note: I don't know why, but my note for the first chapter isn't showing, but maybe I'm just useless with 21st century technology. I also lost pretty much everything about this entire fucking chapter because of windows and had to rewrite. I felt like throwing this piece of shit for a computer through the door. ugh

But onto the chapter!

Aside from weighing the different options of my possible insanity I was also forced to seriously contemplate whether or not I should just quietly take my exit and these thoughts completely made me forget what was the reason I came here. The loud crash. I had been so succumbed in my sheer confusion about the situation I found myself in that everything else on my mind was tuned out. Roxas was eyeing me in a way that could only be described as sickening, mainly because of his current attire and what he did for living. Prostituting is unfortunately very common, but come on, if you want anyone to look at you as an equal, you shouldn't be giving away information about your career-choice so bluntly. It could also be just me, but my honest opinion on selling sex isn't the most understanding. Call me a virgin, but I think sex is private and only to be had with someone you love. Not to mention the near certainty that Roxas here has some kind of STD, which is, of course, recommended to be avoided.

Again, losing myself in thoughts and suddenly snapping out of it, which always seems to happen to me I blurted out the first thing in my mind.

"What did you mean with wishes?" I didn't exactly care to know that much, but my stupid curiousity always butts in and asks these idiotic questions.

Roxas smiled a bit at that for reasons unknown to me and leaned back on the sofa.

"Well, you know.. Clothing, whether I give or take... Role-playing.. Things like that" he paused for a moment to see how I was reacting – not a very wise move on his side, but I digress "Why? Did you want to see what I can do for you?" and he flashed me a big smile and chuckled a bit. He was joking, obviously, but my current state of mixed feelings wasn't catching on his sarcasm.

"What? No! I just don't really know anything about this sort of thing. Just what's shown on Pretty woman" beating myself mentally was becoming increasingly frequent as the conversation went on.

He laughed at something, most likely at the fact that a guy whose current looks resembled more those of a junkie before anything else was confessing to having watched Pretty woman.

"Well, if Pretty woman was in anyway a realistic take on what prostitution actually is, wouldn't I be pampered by some rich guy instead of having you here telling me to keep it down?" he was mocking me in a way that was painfully obvious, or then I was hallucinating, which made me pissed again, but before I could say anything about it I remembered the reason I was actually here.

"What was that crash about? I heard shouts and then a crash" I didn't know if he'd answer that ( for the simple reason that he seemed to be avoiding subjects that were more negative than whether or not Pretty woman was realistic ).

"You know how prostitutes commonly have a pimp? I have one too. I'm not actually allowed to have the no-fisting rule and a client had complained about that. So he stormed in and made his point clear about that rule" and he was pointing towards his used-to-be bedroom door. It was one of those expensive-looking double glass-doors. Well, there wasn't much glass left on the doors, because most of it was currently habitating his bedroom door, just laying there crushed from heavy impact that had hit the doors "Not that I intend to back out on that rule anytime soon. I've tried it once, and I am one hundred percent done with it."

"Understandable" I said "Not backing out on the rule I mean".

"Yeah. Anyway, I'm sorry you're bothered by the noise. I think I could ask if the clients could knock from now on.. That way you shouldn't hear it, right?" honestly, I was a bit taken aback by him telling me he could try to make some changes to how he did his job so that I could sleep. It was a nice gesture from his side and I wasn't expecting him to act nice, which he had done the entire time I was here.

"Thanks", I said the only thing that I could think of "I, uhh.. I'm gonna leave now, I guess. Try to sleep and.. yeah"

He nodded and gave me the okay. I didn't exactly want to leave, because I was experiencing mild interest on his way of living. He puzzled me and I didn't know what to think about him, which wasn't common to me. I turned on my heels and started to make my way towards the door.

"Hey Axel?" my attempt of escaping this odd atmosphere was cut off.

"Yeah?" I questioned and turned back to face him.

"Come by sometime. I could use company, besides old geezers coming in to get serviced"

I didn't know how to react to that and I also didn't know if I wanted to come by. In a way, coming by his place wasn't exactly a terrible idea, but it was also the worst idea ever. After all, it'd be coming over to a prostitutes place and even though I knew nothing like that would happen, the thought made me shiver.

But in some way he was very likable and fuck him for that, because that meant that I would pay him a new visit. The general oddness of what was happening and my obvious faggotry made it painfully obvious to me that I was interested in this kid and it was horrible. I did not want to get mixed in his shit, but him being such a looker and besides blonde ( a secret fetish of mine ) really gave me no choice. Miserable, I know, but I suppose life throws you in the weirdest places. His career-choice wasn't exactly something that I appreciated but maybe he didn't have a choice either and who was I to judge? After all, I didn't know why he was what he was. Being interested in someone like him was stupid on the most basic level and I really needed to snap out of it, but it's not like you can just tell yourself to defy the universe from putting you in the places you wind up in. Which was pretty fucking moronic to be honest.

I didn't know at this point what was the reason I was interested or if I actually was at all, but my curiousness seems to always control my every move and therefore there was something that interested me – What it was, I don't know, but it was there and that's that.

"Okay. I will", I said, and left. When back in the dark hallway a smile took over my face. A smile that really had no meaning, but it was there nonetheless and seeing my current state of sleep-deprivation it didn't surprise me. Anyone in my place would probably laugh their ass off at the stupidest things, which was refreshing in a way, but also made it very clear that I needed sleep. It was now five in the morning, according to my iPhone, so I did the only sensible thing and called in sick from work. My boss wasn't pleased, but I knew that had I gone to work he would've shooed me off just because of how dead I looked. I would have wondered how in the hell I managed to spend two hours at Roxas' place when we didn't exhange words enough to fill that time gap, but I was too tired for it and so I simply collapsed in my bed and thank the heavens, I fell asleep right away.

When I woke up again it was 10PM and I hadn't felt so rested in what felt like eons. I opened my eyes very slowly, afraid that the sun would burn my eyes off my face, but of course it wasn't up anymore at this time of the day. I took a glance at my bedroom, which looked like the aftermath of a terrorist strike. I figured cleaning it up at least twice a year would probably save me from the talk my friends gave me everytime they came over about the health hazards of living in a pigsty. Not feeling up to it, I made my way to my kitchen and grabbed every food-item I could find and stuffed them down my throat. I was starving for not eating in around 24 hours, so eating enough to make me incapable of moving for a few hours was a good move.

After I was done with that, I decided it was time for taking a shower. Seeing as I already lived in filth, it really was no surprise when I realized it had been five days since my last shower. I wasn't exactly what you would call a clean and organized person, but then again, how could I have the energy of using the shower when my neighbor was making me stay awake for weeks?

He wasn't to blame for my filthiness, not really, but it was nice to have someone to blame instead of admitting to being responsible for the mess I resided in. I sat in the shower for around three hours, mostly for the reason that it seemed to relax my tense muscles and besides sitting underneath pouring hot water was great in every possible way. By the time I got out of the shower it was nearing two in the morning and the realization that I hadn't heard one single ringing of a doorbell struck me with full force. It worried me, but I also felt grateful to a generous extent for it. Ignoring the fleeting thought of visiting Roxas, I went back to sleep.

"Axel! You don't look like a ghost anymore" came the annoyingly excited voice of my co-worker Demyx. He was nice enough, but hearing his rambling at about six in the morning was enough to make me sick. I wasn't a morning-person. He was fun to be around after ten, I simply didn't have the mental capacity for his excitement before it "Your neighbor didn't bother you tonight?"

"No, not one doorbell ring all night. I barged into his house though. Told him to keep it the fuck down", swearing wasn't really recommended when you worked in a busy coffee-shop, but luckily only few souls were awake at this time and therefore we didn't have customers at the moment.

"You did? Did you find out why his doorbell rings so often?" one of the reasons I came along with Demyx was that he was just as curious that I was, so we often stuck our noses in things that had nothing to do with us together.

"No", I lied. As much as the thought of telling Demyx about Roxas' profession it wasn't really my place to throw information like that around like it was brainless gossip.

"Huh. But he didn't keep you up last night, so, I guess that's cool then", he clearly caught up on my lying, but he had enough brains in that head of his that he let it go.

I nodded and turned to the register when I saw a customer walk in. And speak of the devil. It was Roxas. I hadn't really been able to make up what his physique was because of the morning robe he was wearing during our last encounter, but now it was loud and clear that he was fucking hot. He had black skinny jeans and army-boots on paired with a white Jack Daniels t-shirt and a grey suit coat. As a hint about his physique let's just say it was to die for. I didn't even make an attempt not to stare. He made his way to the register and waved at me a bit.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you it was rude to stare?" he asked me. I blinked a bit at his remark and hurriedly said sorry.

"How can I help you?" I asked with my best customer-service voice, trying as hard as I can to not give away that this was my prostitute-neighbor to Demyx.

"I'd like two of whatevers strongest" obviously he hadn't been here before, because had he been here, he'd know that taking two of whatevers strongest would result into him having a stroke.

"That for you alone?" I asked dumbfounded by the sole fact that a person who looked like a lady-boy was bying strong coffee in the first place. He looked more like your average vanilla latte-person, but I guess you can't judge a book by it's cover.

"Yeah, why?" he glanced at Demyx and smiled heartily at him before returning his attention to me.

"I just happen to know that you'll likely get a heart-attack if you take two of the strongest" that being said I grabbed a coffee-cup from the enormous pile of them residing next to the register.

He smirked at me in a way that I could not read.

"Try me" he said and leaned on the counter.

"You asked for it" I said and turned around to make him two double-espressos, that weren't actually even double-espressos, more like pure caffeine liquified. When I was done I handed him the stroke-givers and asked him to pay for them and also to promise me that if he had a stroke, I wouldn't be the one blame. He just laughed at that and downed the double-espressos right in front of me, like it was water. He didn't even bat an eye. Demyx was staring at him, as was I. I was pretty good handling strong coffee, but I knew that I would never be able to do what he had just done in a million years.

"Holy shit, how did you do that?" Demyx exclaimed, which, surprisingly was the first thing he said during the entire time Roxas had been inside.

"Practice makes perfect" Roxas simply said and dropped a few dollars in the tip-jar that Demyx and I had so artistically decorated with doodles of boobs and a text saying "Either show us your boobs or leave a tip". It had been sitting there for a few weeks now and Demyx was betting with me on when our boss would notice it and have a fit. I had ten dollars on two weeks and Demyx had 15 on a month.

"Thanks" I said and smiled.

"Yeah. Anyway, I need to go. See you around" Roxas said and winked at me. Then he smiled and nodded at Demyx and made his exit.

Once he was out the doors it didn't take Demyx even a second to broadcast his thoughts very loudly.

"Did you see him? He was so hot! Do you think he swings that way?" I just laughed and said I didn't know.


	3. Chapter 3

Authors note: Hey! It took me a while to get this done. Mainly because I went out partying and slept for an entire day.. Uh. Also, because I had some moving shit to be done. I lazied out of packing for like a week, so I had to do everything in a day..

Either way, it'd be cool to get some reviews ( possibly including constructive critisiscm ) so let me know what you think.

...

After Roxas' unexpected visit to the coffee shop I work in, it was three days until I saw him again. There hadn't been any sound from his apartment after I told him to keep it down and because I was feeling such gratefulness for that I got this incredibly moronic idea that I would pay a visit to say thank you. God only knows why, but I paced around my apartment for hours that day, trying to figure out what I should wear – I don't know why I was even thinking of such things in the first place – but for some reason I wanted to look good. It may be because my ego had shattered a bit, because I looked like the grim reaper when he first saw me, so the only thought in my mind was that that needed to be fixed. He needed to see that when I so wished, I was fucking hot. Secondly, he was so damn hot that it was hard for me to stomach that his looks surpassed mine. Idiotic, yes, but my ego just needed a damn boost.

After contemplating for long enough, I went for a pair of grey skinny jeans, that I lowered just a bit below my waist, so that the band on my boxers showed – because come on, why would anyone wear Calvin Klein-boxers, if no-one saw that you were a rich-ass motherfucker? Not that I was, but was it really at all relevant if I was, if I looked the part? With those I chose my favourite black dress-shirt and folded the sleeves to my elbows and finished the outfit with a long silver necklace that was an armcuff-necklace and stop laughing, I have my kinks. I put on army-boots and took one last look in the mirror. Yes, good. Dear me, you are so hot it puts fire to shame. Of course, seeing Roxas wasn't the only reason I wanted to look good – we were also going to a bar with Demyx that night. It was Friday after all and thank the lord for that. I nodded at my reflection and walked to the ever-so-dark corridor. It was nine in the evening, so I was pretty confident Roxas didn't have visitors now. I took the few steps to his door and procrastinated. Suddenly, this didn't feel like such a good idea anymore.

Swallowing dryly, I shook my head off the thoughts of just escaping the premises and rang the doorbell. The fucking doorbell.

He opened the door almost instantly about to say something but nothing came out of his mouth when he noticed it was me. He was probably expecting a client. Not surprising, but after looking stupified for a moment he surprised me. He smiled widely at me and hello'ed cheerfully. I really didn't expect him to look so.. happy to see me.

"So, what did you need?" He asked me, eyeing me from tip to toe, clearly impressed with my looks. ( My ego was now back in it's completely ridiculous size )

"Um, I just came by to.. thank you for you know.. I haven't heard the doorbell again. Uhh... I have been able to sleep and that's nice, I guess", damn stuttering, I had thought about what I'd say and suddenly I just managed to fuck up a simple thank you. Jesus Christ.

"You're welcome. Hey, Axel, you wanna come in for coffee? I don't have clients tonight" how could he talk so smoothly, when I was succesfully making myself look like an idiot with no speaking ability?

"Yeah, sure", I said "Will the coffee potentially give me a stroke?"

Ah, so now I wasn't stuttering. Typical. Whenever it's important words don't work, but when I ask about the strength of a coffee I'm a damn smooth criminal.

"Haha, could be! I don't really like non-strokegiving coffee", he chuckled and let me in. Taking my shoes off I followed him into the kitchen and sat at the table.

"Do you have any plans for tonight?" Roxas asked me.

"Um, yeah. We're going to a bar with Demyx.. That's the guy that was at the coffee-shop with me behind the counter."

"The mulleted guy?" he asked, in a rethorical way, so I didn't bother to answer "Huh. I thought you were more of your typical pub-goer"

"In my defense, I didn't choose where we are going and secondly you don't really look like the strong coffee-type", that was true, but I would have chosen some nightclub, just like Demyx had.

"Oh? What type do I look like then?" I watched him put the coffee on and then put two coffee-cups on the table.

"You're more like the average vanilla-latte kinda guy", actually he looked like a vanilla ice-latte kind of guy, but that was beside the point.

"Ha! I'll have you know that I can't actually even stand vanilla latte", he said pretending to be offended "By the way what bar are you heading to?"

"Screen, I heard", it was a new bar in the city-center and I wasn't actually even waiting anything from it.

"Huh. Small world. I'm going there too, today", he just casually drops these surprises at me, doesn't he? Exactly, what are the odds that my neighbor – my prostitute neighbor – was going to the same bar that I was? This is probably where teenage girls would go all fate on the subject, but I'm not a girl and I'm not a teenager either.

"Don't you have.. you know.. work to do?" I snickered at the pun I had sneaked in that sentence, although it was lame as hell, but I'm a sucker for lousy puns.

"No, I have weekend nights off. My pimps not that bad, even if he has a bit of a temper. He lets me take days off and I make decent money", he said in a way that was strangely normal for talking about his pimp, the same one that had trashed his door. "So, see you there?"

"Oh, okay. Umm, yeah sure. Actually.. We could maybe.. Go together?" stupid idiotic moronic split personality that thought that was a fucking great idea. Yeah, Axel, how about that? Let's go to a bar with a prostitute! The best idea ever! "You know, since I'm already here, so we're going the same way anyway."

He got up from his seat and got coffee for us. He didn't say anything until he sat back down. He looked at me in an almost careful manner, as if looking at me would make him burst into flames. Shifting in his seat, Roxas offered me milk, which I accepted and poured some into my coffee while listening to the deafening silence. Stupid split personality.

"... You sure?" he half-whispered and I swear to ever-loving Christ there was a hint of sadness in the tone "You sure you want to go together with.. a prostitute?"

It was odd that he seemed so upset now at his career-choice, when he had told about it without much thought, like saying he was a cashier at Walmart. I had thought he was OK with his choice, seeing how comfortable he seemed to be talking about it. But now, he sounded like he thought of himself as some lowly creature, who didn't have the privilege to even walk together with someone. I didn't know why, but that made me.. not pity him, even though I should have, but sad for him.

"Yeah, why not? I mean, I don't know shit about why you do what you do and who am I to judge?", I wasn't anyone, but I was judging and that stung a bit.

Roxas smiled softly at me and there it was again. The damn interest. It might have been because he was a blonde or because he had these gorgeous big blue eyes, or the fact that he was shorter than me or the fact that he was just so downright adorable, but I got a huge urge to kiss him. I shook the urge off, telling it to go fuck itself, but it wouldn't. Suddenly, walking with him was a terrible idea. I wasn't exactly keen on the idea of finding myself crushing on the kid later. Sure, he was hot and sure, he was actually nice and sure, he was just so fucking kissable-looking that I just wanted to crush my lips on his AND GODDAMNIT BRAIN SHUT UP.

"Thanks. I appreciate that. What time do you want to leave then?" he asked, this time sounding like the same Roxas that I had met on Monday night.

"Around 10:30?" I suggested, all the while giving myself a mental beating for even thinking of kissing him.

"That sounds good. Hey, do you want to watch Orange is the new black with me? We'd have time for one episode. I still need to change" Ok, so, the urge to kiss him was back. He seriously could not watch OiTNB. He just couldn't. It was my favourite show on the motherfucking earth and he had just asked me to watch it.

I don't really know what happened next. I guess I downed my coffee and watched OiTNB with him - a great episode, I'll have you know – and then he changed his clothes, while he was small-talking with me. We left his apartment and walked outside, making our way downtown ( I wish I could recite thousand miles here, but that would be tacky ) and when we reached a bridge near the apartment complex we lived in I stopped dead in my tracks and took his hand.

And then I fucking kissed him.

I don't know why I did it. I don't remember. I can't even make any sense of it. I didn't even know if he was gay. The kiss itself, really, was nothing sort of unnecessary. It was a bit sloppy and weird, as neither of us really saw it coming and only lasted for a couple of seconds. We stood there, frozen, for a good minute or two inches away from each others faces just.. staring.

Then he broke the silence.

"What was that?" there was no tone in his voice. No surprise, no anger, no sadness, no joy.

"I... I.. I'm sorry. I don't know why I did that. Hell, I don't even know what just happened..."

"Um.. Okay..." he said, gaining some tone in his voice, that I could not understand "Listen, Axel.. I would really like to be.. friends. I don't really have friends outside prostitution-rings.. And.. I can't.. I just.. If you... If you just want.. sex.. Then.. I can't do that. I'm sorry. I just can't. I.. I'm not good with that. I don't want that. I want you to be my friend, not my client."

It made me angry that he thought I was after sex. But I figured, he probably really did not know shit about actual human-feelings. He had told me, earlier at his apartment that he had never been in a relationship. He hadn't even had sex with anyone besides his clients. So I understood where he was coming from, but it still angered me.

"Roxas, I don't want to be your client!" I said a bit too loudly "Jesus Christ... Look.. I just really don't know what happened, okay? I just.. kissed you. I don't know, I guess I find you interesting, but mother of all that is holy, I do not want to be your client."

He looked scared. Not just some "ooh, I'm scared", but legitimately scared. Why that was was beyond me, but the look was there nonetheless.

"...Okay", he finally whispered.

"Listen.. I don't know why I did that. I really don't. I'm as confused as you are. I'm sorry I raised my voice and I'm sorry that I kissed you. Fuck.." I was just repeating myself at this point "Shit.. Let's just forget about that."

"I can't forget about that! Axel, you kissed me. I have never been kissed by anyone but clients! How do you expect me to forget? And you just said that you're interested in me! I-" he cut himself short and then he turned on his heel and started running away. I stood there dumbfounded for a second. I didn't know what had happened. I didn't know what I felt. Of course he would run away – A person who he barely even knew had just kissed him and I felt like running away too.

But I ran after him anyway.

"Roxas!" I tried to get him to stop but it was in vain. He was running mindlessly through the streets, he crossed red lights without even bothering to see if there were any cars. And I did too. Chasing after him didn't make any sense. It just didn't make any fucking sense and the most sensible thing I could have done would have been to let him run and continue on with my life. Everything was a blur by now. We were on our way to being friends and I fucked it up.

He was in the middle of the road and I saw a car speed right towards him. Everything slowed down and I shouted his name again, telling him to watch the fuck out. He froze at that and that gave me the second I needed to grab him by the arm and pull him from the road to the sidewalk and I held him tight.

"You idiot! What were you thinking?! It was red lights! You could've been killed!"

He was trembling now and trying to fight his way out of my grasp, but I wasn't allowing him any room to succeed.

"What would have it mattered?! I wouldn't have had to do any of this shit anymore! I wouldn't have to take clients and I wouldn't have to be scared anymore! You should have just let me run!" I was taken aback by this, because I didn't think he would react to almost dying like that. Like he would have rather died. I knew he probably wasn't glad to have to be doing what he did, but it never even crossed my mind that he would sooner die than do it anymore. This was all so confusing and it was hard for me to stomach that in less than a week I had found my way into a situation where I was holding my prostitute neighbor in my arms, the same one that I found myself strangely interested in and he was kicking and screaming that I should have just let him die.

His fighting died down eventually and his screams turned to sobs. And then he was there, in my arms, crying his eyes out, clutching onto my shirt. He didn't talk anymore, he just cried. The people that passed us by were staring now and I tried to hide Roxas as well as I could. Holding Roxas tighter I tried to hush him and tell him that it was okay now.

Even though I knew it wasn't.


	4. Chapter 4

Authors note: I have a disgustingly huge list for why this took so long. For one, I got an eye-infection and my other eye just feels generally icky, I can't open it completely and there's some shit leaking out. It doesn't hurt though.. For other reasons for like two weeks everytime I wrote MW just deleted everything I wrote for unknown reasons. I've used wordpad in the past for this specific reason, but now I can't. I also had shitloads and shitloads of real life happening. But y'know listing these out doesn't really change anything.. The song-lyrics are from Anna Puu's C'est la vie.

Merry belated Christmas! Thank you so much for faves and follows and reviewing here have some kisses *gives you a million*

xxxx

Roxas quickly collected himself after crying – so quickly in fact that it was a bit alarming. He couldn't have been okay, but I decided it would be better not to question him on it. Roxas pushed himself away from me, very slowly and then looked up at me and said it was ok now.

I didn't even remember that we were supposed to go clubbing until Roxas reminded me. I was so confused, my memories of how we even got to the club are hazy. I remember finding Demyx and Roxas bying us both drinks. Apparently, Roxas wasn't kidding when he said he got decent pay. He was fucking loaded. I asked myself again why was it that he lived in such a cheap apartment-complex.

We sat down, the three of us, at a booth located near the dance-floor. I was thinking of Roxas' breakdown so much that I didn't hear a word Demyx or Roxas said. Luckily they talked to each other. Considering my current state of mind it wasn't a suprise that it wasn't very long until I was absolutely shit-faced. I think it was around my 8th shot that I decided it would be a fucking awesome idea to grab Roxas forcefully by the arm and drag him on the dance-floor. Wow, brain.

Demyx may have been following us to the dance-floor, my sober-brain had told me, but apparently had done one of three things:

Went out for a smoke

Saw someone ridiculously good-looking and out of his league

Saw someone ridiculously good-looking and out of his league and now was hard at work persuasing his chosen victim to a quick make-out session in the restrooms.

Everything was blurry after standing up – the thing with cheap shots is that they only start fucking with your head after you get up and attempt to actually do anything but shots.

I wanted to crash my lips against the pale skin on Roxas' neck, just above his collarbone and fuck him into oblivion. I blamed the shots for my libido. My sober knew that this was still _Roxas_, my neighbor, my **prostitute-neighbor.**

xxxx

There's something wonderful about being hungover. For instance, you know that you probably did something really stupid. You might wake up somewhere very unexpected. You might realize you used 200 bucks just for booze. You might be experiencing sledgehammers dancing inside your head. Or you might realize everyone of these examples is happening at the same time.

Which is what happened to me. The following morning ( evening? ), I woke up to a million sledgehammers raining on me and to the infamous "Where the fuck am I?"-realization, that mostly only happens after a night of being fucked up for good. And, that, of course always leads to a "What the fuck did I do?", which, in this case led to the lightbulb flashing on top of my head, when I noticed a body next to me.

"Shit!", I exclaimed in a ridiculously high voice and jumped off the bed. _What the hell?_

After desperately trying to get my breath to go steady with me for a minute or two, I leaned in to see just who the fuck was in bed with me. I don't think anyone is surprised to find out it was Roxas, because who else? This would've made me shit my pants, but thankfully ( and I mean really ), I noticed mine and Roxas' clothes were still on and there was no cum to be seen.

I started snooping around, trying to locate my keys and phone, possibly so I could leave before Roxas woke up. Roxas was nice and all but...

_Oh my God._

_I kissed him last night. _

The memory of my idiotic move poured itself on me like I was cereal and it was milk and that is such a lousy saying, but holy fucking hell.

Somewhere between "Oh my God, Axel, what kind of an idiot are you?" and "I need to get the fuck out of here, I feel sick", I found myself picking up a photo, placed carefully on top of a photo-frame that was broken.

It was Roxas, kissing some guy on the mouth. He was smiling into the kiss, the kiss he was sharing with a guy with long silver hair tied up on a pony-tail. But that didn't make any sense. Roxas had told me he hadn't even kissed anyone but clients. Was this a client? Why would he have a photo of a client? I flipped the photo around to see if there was anything written in the back, but there wasn't.

"What are you doing?" Roxas' tone was accusatory. He sounded angry. Shit.

"I, uh, I was trying to find my keys..and my phone"

"They're on the kitchen-table. That is not your keys or your phone", Roxas said, his voice low and dripping with annoyance.

"Who is this?" I asked, suddenly pissed that he had lied to me about kissing anyone but clients, but then keeping a photo, where he was kissing someone.

"None of your business", Roxas answered, through gritted teeth.

"Hey! I think it's my business, when you told me you hadn't kissed anyone but clients but you have a fucking sap-photo just sitting here", Wrong, it wasn't any of my business, but something made me jealous in the photo, which ultimately made me sick. I had vowed not to crush on Roxas, a prostitute, and getting jealous didn't really fit there.

Roxas was silent, until I realized that this really wasn't any of my business and I was way over the line.

"Shit, I'm sor-"

"Get out." Roxas barely whispered.

"What?"

"Get out!" Roxas shouting was nothing less than scary. If you could kill with a look, I would have died there.

"Look, I'm sorry, I just-" I tried to apologize, but Roxas wasn't listening. He grabbed my keys and my phone from his kitchen-table, shoved them on me and whispered again: "Get the fuck out of my house."

I sighed and walked out. When I was in the hallway, staring at the damned doorbell of Roxas, I tried to figure out what just happened. But seeing as I really had no fucking clue, I made my way to my own apartment. _C'est la vie_, I thought and went to take a shower. Quoting a song in my head, I let the hot water wash over me and my hangover.

"_I got a message,_

_it said "Here's the deal"_

_I had no business going home anymore at all_

_I see,_

_So I had to swallow:_

_No place to go,_

_No boyfriend,_

_I shouldn't have trusted this either_

_It makes you wonder,_

_when you try something_

_and yet,_

_you get left outside,_

_Can't get inside,_

_And it starts to make you laugh_

_when you learn to realize_

_that everything disappears at some point_

_Shit happens,_

_C'est la vie,_

_I stated_

_And tiptoed away_

_It's useless to cry in pain,_

_Throwing a tantrum would be in vain"_

xxxx

It wasn't until two days later, when I was out bying groceries, or rather trying to that I realized I would have to see Roxas again. My idiot self ( beating myself mentally is alarmingly frequent for me ) had forgotten my wallet at his place. At least I sort of hoped I had, because if I didn't, then my wallet would be god-knows-where and I'd have to go through a really awkward moment with Roxas for nothing.

For those two days I didn't see Roxas, I was thinking about him more than I care to admit. Questions of why he ran away, questions of why he threw me out. Was the guy in the photo a lover he wasn't supposed to have? Maybe the person was dead? That'd be dramatic, for sure. I nearly vomited when I felt the tiniest bit of jealousness. I had to remind myself that this was a prostitute. My mantra of Roxas selling his backside was getting too old too quickly, but it was basically the only legitimate reason I had to stop myself from growing fond of him – And frankly I honestly loathed the idea of crushing on him.

And besides, I hadn't known him for even two weeks – I didn't even know him – and he had already kicked me out of his apartment. If this wasn't a sign for "DON'T FUCKING ASSOCIATE YOURSELF WITH HIM" then I don't know would be. This situation was atrocious, to say the least, but I needed my wallet to buy food, which I needed to live so there wasn't really anything I could do to avoid meeting Roxas.

Plus, I didn't remember how I had gotten to Roxas' apartment, didn't remember if anything had happened, if I had hurt him somehow. My mind needed a rest and I was getting desperate. I had actually cleaned my apartment to get my mind off Roxas. It didn't work, of course, because I was doing it for the specific reason of wanting to get Roxas off my mind.

Once I had gotten enough of the company of my best friends Procrastination and Doifuckinghaveto, I braced myself and tiptoed, yet again, to Roxas' apartment. During those last days I had noticed a pattern in my life – ignore Roxas' entire completely - find yourself incapable of that - tiptoe to his apartment - ring the fucking doorbell.

This time, though, I didn't have time to ring the doorbell, because Roxas opened the door to step out just when I was reaching for the doorbell. Taking out the trash, I noted, and stood there like an idiot.

"...hi", he said in a low voice and pushed me from his way in the rude "get out of the fucking way"-way that always leaves the protagonist crying and shocked and walked away. I didn't stop him. I was a tad too offended for that and a tad too interested in the realization that Roxas left his door ajar. I could just go inside, get my wallet and get out. Easy as pie.

Without wasting time I stepped in and made a dash for it. Unless Roxas had moved my wallet, it would still be on the side-table next to the fucking white leather sofa man, and yes that is exactly what I call it, because my brain is a miserable thing in existence and insists on making everything lame. Especially when I am shutting out the feeling of my heart clenching, because God forbid, I ever admit myself I actually fancied Roxas and was experiencing mild heart-ache (read: raging heart-ache) because of the cold shoulder he was giving me.

It didn't make any sense, liking Roxas and to have experienced so much drama with him already. It made me wonder if my life had suddenly turned into a soap-opera: My neighbor is a prostitute, who I have a crush on and now he's giving me the cold treatment and I'm stuck being slightly jealous over a fucking photograph. Shit like that simply didn't and couldn't happen in real life. At least, that's what I thought.

I stumbled over a pile of whatever-the-fuck on my way to the sofa and spotted my wallet. Yes! I grabbed it and turned around to leave, but when I turned Roxas was there.

"What the hell?", he asked, not sounding annoyed, but rather surprised.

"I, uh. Left my wallet here. Now I got it so.. I'm just going to go", I spoke slowly and took some steps forward to see if Roxas would stop me. He didn't. I made my way to the door, and was already half out when I heard Roxas speak: "His name is Riku."

"Okay", I said dumbly and waited for a bit to see if Roxas would talk more.

"I lied when I said I had never dated anyone, you know", Roxas said "I dated him".

"Oh.. So not anymore? What happened? Sorry for asking", this could only really go badly.

Roxas had been facing away from me and now he turned a bit to face me. Jesus Christ, this was becoming a badly written soap opera a bit too soon.

"He, uh.. He cheated on me", Roxas said "I'm not really over it, like you could probably tell since I'm keeping a fucking photo of him".

"I'm sorry", I responded, for lack of anything else to say.

"I started prostituting after we broke up.. He's kind of the reason I'm stuck like this. So, I guess I keep a photo to remind myself that it's not me alone who got me into this shit.. Could you close the door? I don't want everytone passing by hearing it" Roxas pointed at the door.

I nodded and closed the door, as requested.

"I'm sorry I threw you out the other day" he mumbled and shuffled towards me "I just.. After what happened that night, I didn't want you seeing anything like that"

Hold the motherfucking phone. What happened that night?

"What?"

xxxx

Here, have a cliffhanger 3 I hate when cliffhangers happen, personally because Suspense and I aren't friends, but y'know. Gives me a reason to get my ass writing in the middle of my eye-infectious-state.


End file.
